


Al Tempo

by Eyrdamun



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, musician au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyrdamun/pseuds/Eyrdamun
Summary: Akechi likes to conduct and it provides a good cello exercise- he corrects and molds his posture to the song without even laying a hand on him. At the very least, that's what Akira says.





	Al Tempo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chromophilic_Daydream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/gifts).



[Apogée, Joker topples, body curled about the cello. His head presses against the instrument’s body and his fingers slow down with the song. Slow, low notes. A lover whispering sweet nothings from between his legs, words dictated by the man sitting before him.

When the song ends, Joker looks up mouth slack, his heavy breathing condensing on the instrument’s wood.

Crow’s body has pitched, of course it did, but he makes no sounds nor motions. They stare for a second, two beats, and Crow brings his hands together and clapped.

  
  
“You have a surprisingly pretty voice,” Crow pleasantly speaks.

 

Joker hums, a baritone note that shuddered in pleasure and accompanied the cello’s own sounds. The instrument pressed like a lover against Joker, singing romance and desire in vibrations that snaked from between his thighs and scaled his spine.

 

Vibrato on the A string, staccato from his lips.

 

Crow listens and watches.

 

Forte from his bow, crescendo from his hips.

 

“Joker.”

 

“Crow…” His name, in piano.   
  


“Encore!”  


 

Encore, the e string plays.]

 

One, two, three, four.

 

Akechi’s left hand held his violin’s bow with delicate fingers, moving it up and down, side to side, as he counted beats.

 

One, two, three, four.

 

His right hand on the chair armrest, back against the cushions. His feet firmly planted on the floor, knees spread.

 

One, two, three, four.

 

His eyes were like a bird of prey, analyzing every movement as his right hand rose and pointed at Akira. He held it there.

 

One, Akira straightened.

 

Two, he licked his lips as his own left hand caressed the neck of the cello.

 

Three, the fingers glided up the strings as his own bow readied across the instrument’s body.

 

Four, Akira briefly exchanged glances with his conductor for the night before focusing again on the other’s hands.

 

The right gestured towards him while the bow stroked the upward fourth slash in the air.

 

He begun to play, low lazy notes to set a mood that danced a trail behind, with Akechi’s left hand. Their bows moved together, as one should when playing music together.

 

One, two, three-

 

Akechi’s right hand pointed at his leg. Akira braced himself.

 

Then, again, it gestured and-

 

Four-

 

As instructed, Akira pressed his thigh gently against the body of the instrument. The vibrations of the quiet notes biting into his flesh but never spreading much farther than an inch up his leg.

 

Akechi was smirking, Akira noted at a fermata.

 

His right hand raised again, and he could only wait with bated breath as to what order went next. It pointed towards the middle of the cello’s body, and then the hand soared higher, palm facing the skies.

 

Akira did his best to keep his breathing even the notes sank their teeth into his leg and their volume rose, their length lessened and their vibrations slither up his thigh higher with Akechi’s still slowly ascending hand. Luckily, his right foot followed the pace of the violinist’s bow so he lack of attention to that hand didn’t matter much.   
  


It was hard to concentrate on it seeing how it was the phantom of the right that caressed up his inner thigh. This lasted five measures before the hand raised again-

  
Cello, piano. Immediately followed by hips, forward.

  
Thinking got harder, mostly muscle memory ensuring Akira played appropriately as he focused on making no other noise. It was cruel, how Akechi denied him his labouring breath, terrible how he choked him without putting a single hand on him. Outright horrendous, really, how he was leaving him to slowly scorch under the pressure of building up inside of him.

  
Akira smirked, tongue darting out to moisturize his lips as his eyes bored into Akechi’s lax form on the sofa directly across him.

 

The bow traced the tempo in the air, the right hand strayed from its perch on the chair to Akechi’s thigh and stayed there. Akira hadn’t noticed when, but the burgundy eyes had lowered into smoldering slits. He wanted to shake his leg up and down to ease some adrenaline the cello kissed into his veins but-

  
One, two, three, four.

  
If he did that, he would fall out of tempo. That wouldn’t do when putting on such a special concert, for an even more special audience of one.

  
The right hand’s finger tapped on his thigh for a beat and then-

  
Forte.

  
The instrument’s body pressed against him intimately, and the sudden change in volume made him almost gasp as the music creeped about his body like shapeless hands. Shapeless hands resembling too closely to the one of a certain violinist sitting in front of him. Akira’s own body stuttered a staccato where there was none. Akechi tutted.

  
He then pointed at his throat and signaled. Right before Akira could begin panting for air, his conductor whispered “Adagio.“

  
“Ah…“

  
In any other occasion, he might have been embarrassed by the sound that that the instrument massaged out of him. At the moment, however, he found it difficult to feel shame- Akechi truly knew this song well. Too well even with how he conducted him. Akira only realized it after a couple of more moans escaped him that his noises and panting harmonized with his cello.

  
Two stanzas later, Akechi grinned and Akira could already tell where this nocturne was going.

  
“Allegro.“

  
Akira tried not to thrust forward, really he did, but then the come hither of the right hand granted him the permission he craved. Akechi looked pleased as Akira’s notes turned into glissandos, left fingers too lazy while his right struggled to keep up with the beat.

  
The heat under his skin turned his blood to lava, and the cello spurred on the flames in the pit of his stomach as the cellist swayed his body against it. Akira barely managed to notice Akechi pointing at his throat and making a lowering motion.

 

He managed to bury his face into the neck of the instrument just in time with the violin bow marking the third quarter and his voice came out in whines.

  
Looking up, there was a tent visible in Akechi’s dress pants, his right hand too near it and too still for it to be purely conscious positioning.

  
Somehow, through the haze of the melody carving paths under his skin and sending electricity up his spine, he wondered if he could make Akechi lose it enough to masturbate himself right there in front of him.

  
Akechi pointed at the cello, as if reading his thoughts, and punished him.

  
“A Capella.”

  
A surprisingly loud whine escape his lips following the melody of the song. His legs twitched about the instrument’s body and squeezed as he kept thrusting his hips forward. Akechi didn’t tell him to stop the other movements. Akechi looked all too pleased with what he was seeing.

  
One, two, it amazed Akira to no end how the bow kept dancing in the air elegantly and never once straying out of tempo.Three, four, he couldn’t marvel for long until another motion guided his flushed face away from the wood it pressed on so that his voice could flow more easily through the air. It echoed around them like a plea and Akechi was all too happy to deny him for eternity.

  
But they had places to be at the next morning, so he nodded. Right hand twirling in the air, a “ vas-y“ breathed through pearly white teeth, and Akira did as told.

  
His cello sang in unison, the strings vibration again under his body only this time so strong, so loud, so quick and swift that they held him taut and curved as his hips thrusted in crescendo. Akira’s usually low voice high and staccato.

  
Vaguely, he thanked muscle memory for the way his left hand kept hitting the notes at the right moment, vibratos where there were none only added by his own lust fogged mind and bow sometimes forgotten to pluck at the strings.

  
He heard the drag of wood against the floor like a baseline to his tempo, realizing only measures later- he didn’t know how many he wasn’t counting anymore- that it was his own chair making the noise as he humped the instrument. Plucking the C string, sent tremors up his vertebrae and expanded his lungs in a sudden intake of breath as he arched forward.

 

Eyes half lidded, cheeks too red, mouth gaping and panting, Akira was treated to the sight of Akechi stroking himself lazily through his clothes. The violin bow laid discarded at his feet.

And all too quickly for his muddled brain to process, orgasm rode the waves of the cello’s vibration. It raced up his body, into his black curls- Akira could feel the ghost of Akechi’s hand gripping and pulling at his hair, dragging him down the waves of pleasure so that he could drown. He came with a stuttered breath, his feet stomped the floor.

 

On autopilot, he kept playing slowly as Akechi egged him on with a glance as he kept touching himself.

 

“What a wonderful performance.“

 

Akira struggled to breathe properly. He simply shot Akechi his most disarming smirk.

 

“Seriously?“ Akechi’s right hand raised and beckoned him over. “You seem to have much energy still.“

 

Standing up on shaky legs, Akira balanced the cello on his previous spot. The improvised conductor made a show of checking the time on his phone.

 

“Fetch me my bow, Kurusu-kun. We still have time to go through another partition.“

 

He never stopped stroking the erection between his legs at a pace so slow Akira had no idea how he wasn’t going mad. Still, Akira saw the opportunity for what it was and quipped,

 

“Hope in this next one I’ll be playing woodwinds.“

 

The wink might have been a bit too much- no, it definitely was too much. Akechi shot him a look and, well, that was true, Akira forgot his conductor hadn’t given him permission to use his voice yet for this next song.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for Chrome a whiiiiiiiiile back because of AU talks. Wasn't sure if M or E, so I just went with M since nothing actually explicitly happens /shrug emoji


End file.
